Old Sins Cast Long Shadows
by Chloe.Diamond.Dame
Summary: She's dead, but followers of the White Witch still stalk the presence of a new Daughter of Eve in Cair Paravel. But when Cleo is told that she's here for a reason, she learns that no one just stumbles into Narnia by accident. R&R, Edmund/OC, before PC.
1. The Light & Darkness of the Lamppost

'Hello?' my voice echoes.

Larsson Wood isn't the biggest forest in the world but it sure feels like it. Everywhere I look there seems to be darkness. The trees are staring at me with intent, as if they're expecting me to do something about the fact that I'm lost. Or maybe I'm _not_ lost. Maybe I'm just a few yards from my house and I just don't know it yet. Either way, my whereabouts at the moment are unknown to me.

'Hello?'

I'm sure that my calls aren't reaching anyone so I might as well start walking. I let my burgundy locks roll over my shoulders by the removal of my hair band as my feet pad across the dry leaves of November with no sense of direction at all. Every firework I hear makes my skin shiver and my body jump. Bang. It's the 5th of November and the sound of exploding gunpowder almost overlap each other in a thundering crescendo.

My heart somersaults as I bump into something behind me. A bright light looms over my body, and I see its source as I glance up at the lamppost that I'm leaning against – which is eerie because I don't remember one being here. I can't even hear the fireworks in this place.

'What was that?' I whisper to myself, as something rustles behind the bushes. I find myself clinging to the mysterious lamppost in search of reassurance as something emerges from the darkness and stalks towards me.

I wouldn't scream if it's just a rabbit, or just a squirrel or a swooping owl, but I now I'm aware that I _am_ screaming – highly shrilled and fearful – because glaring back at me is a wolf that looks as though it has stolen its eyes from the devil and had mimicked his snarl and his stare too.

'_Eve..._'

Did—did it just talk to me? Did that low, deep hoarse voice just come from its mouth? But—but that's—

'Impossible.' I murmur as I hide behind the thin neck of the lamppost.

'_Daughter of Eve... I have been waiting for you_...' it rasps.

Instantly, I am covering my eyes and crouching into a ball, because right now, I can't bear to watch it as it pounces towards me about to tear my to shreds...

. . .

**A/N: Worth the continuance? Please review and tell me what you think!**

**Sorry it's so short, but then again – I LIKE cliff-hangers. **


	2. Cair Paravel's Just King

Howls infect the air with agony and pain amongst the sounds of pounding feet and something wrestling across the autumn leaves on the ground. I don't want to look up, but I do it anyway, just out of curiosity. A dark figure with a sleeveless robe thrusts a dagger into the heart of the wolf, leaving it to whine and whimper pathetically. He's stopped his anguished cries as I realise that he is now in fact _dead_. The figure removes his dagger and cleans it with the cloth of his robe. He acts as if he's done this before.

'You can get up now,' he says. He lends out a hand to me and I take it, seeing as I have no desire to be on the ground any longer and get my tights dirty (seeing as my dress is too short to be the one to be ruined).

'Um,' I tremble slightly. _Pull yourself together_, my mind barks at my quivering lips. 'Thank you.'

'It was my pleasure,' he beams, bowing gracefully. My eyes widen in surprise at this, as it is the last thing I expect him to do (the first thing I expect him to do is say: 'Anyfin' for a fit bird'). 'Anyway,' he adds. 'I believe that _all_ creatures of the White Witch should be defeated. They're only vermin on Narnian land, as I am sure you understand.'

'No. I really don't.'

What on earth is he talking about – "_Narnian land_"? And who the heck is the White Witch?

'You're foreign aren't you?' he guesses with a quizzical look on his face. I can feel my face presenting a blank look of confusion. 'Or maybe you're... just a bit lost?'

'Err, yes.' I mumble, still staring at the corpse that the darkness was lingering around. I'm not sure whether or not to trust this guy; he has that boyish look about him tells me that this guy is probably the same age as me (15).

'You can stay with me until dawn,' he suggests as a starlight white horse appears by his side like a someone has suddenly turned on a light switch in the blackness. 'Cair Paravel is much safer than the likes of these woods.'

_Hmm_. I could be walking around for hours before I see anything remotely familiar, and my rescuer doesn't look like the type of guy to harm me so...

'Alright.' I agree gratefully. 'Who are you, anyway?'

'Of course,' the boy says as he mounts the horse and hoists me up behind him. 'Where are my manners? I am King Edmund the Just, King of Narnia.'

. . .

The warm beverage travels down my throat and informs every cell in my body to relax as the crackling flames lick the firewood in the fireplace, and heats the large space that Edmund calls "the drawing room" as I curl up in a ball in on the luxurious sofa as the orangey red light flickers across the room. Edmund sits in an armchair a few inches away from me and sips some tea from a golden cup noisily. I didn't believe him when he told me that he was a monarch, but this Cair Paravel is so fantastical that I squeezed Edmund tighter on the way here in excitement. But something's been chasing my thoughts round and round all evening.

'Edmund,' I begin uneasily. 'Before you saved me, that wolf was... _talking_ to me.'

'I know,' he replies casually. 'Every animal here does.'

'Really?' How weird. 'Well,' I continue. 'It called me a Daughter of Eve and said that it'd been waiting for me. What does that mean exactly? And who's the White Witch?'

His body tenses at my question. His eyes seem to glaze over slightly, as if a bad memory has suddenly been remembered as I ask my enquiry. He avoids my gaze as he explains: 'I do not know why he was "waiting" for you but the White Witch is not someone we speak about around here, dear. Any person who believes that the White Witch was right in her actions and her torments on this kingdom is someone that you should NEVER trust. I almost got sucked into it myself.'

'But you didn't trust her?'

'No.' Edmund sighs. 'I didn't.'

Awkwardness comes quickly as the room becomes unbearably silent. A voice quite young and enthusiastic breaks the quietness: 'Edmund!'

Edmund glances round and mutters: 'Oh bugger.'

'Edmund, where have you been?' squeals a girl whose face is sprinkled in freckles and wearing a nightie. 'I've been _so_ worried about you. Susan and Peter fell asleep before I could tell them of your disappearance but thank _goodness_ your—ooh, hello, who's this?'

'This is...?'

'Cleo,' I say proudly, sitting up to look at the girl properly. 'Cleo Jones.'

'Good gosh, what an unusual name!' the girl grins. 'My name is Lucy, Queen Lucy the Valiant (but I don't like to flaunt it around). I'm Edmund's sister. Where did you come from?'

'I got lost, but then suddenly this _huge_—'

'—chance occurred, and I brought her back here so that she could go home at dawn.'

My eyes flash a glare at him. Why would he lie? His sister seems so sweet and innocent – why would he hide anything from her? Nevertheless, I might as well go along with it as to not upset her.

'Um, yeah, that's right.'

'How marvellous,' Lucy smiles. She looks at me and then looks and Edmund, and is suddenly declaring that she's retiring to bed.

'You should be too,' Edmund tells me. 'I'll tell the maids to make you a bed in one of the guest rooms.'

The two siblings melt away as I lose myself in the warmth and the comfort of the castle of Cair Paravel's drawing room that covers me in a quilt of elation, and the dreamworld of slumber has almost taken me. I can feel it.

. . .

**A/N: Thank you for my reviewers, but please review **_**more**_**!**

**I'd really, REALLY lurve to know what you think. **


	3. Author's Note!

**A/N: Okay folks, here's the deal: the reason that I haven't updated in a while is because I haven't felt inspired enough to carry on with my Narnian chapters, so excuse me if I take a long while to update again. It will DEFINETLY be sometime this month, but I honestly can be sure when I start up again.**

**Thank You.**


	4. Twice

It's the daylight that's woke me up, I know it is. I can feel it like a warm flannel over my face as the sunrays hit my eyelids creating a red blur underneath them. My body stretches similarly to a pink elastic band and snaps back as I get up dizzily and stagger over towards the door. With a turn of a glass handle – which could be a large diamond for all I know – I find myself in what looks to be the entrance hall of Cair Paravel. Oh my God. Did I really do all that last night? Did I meet royalty and ride horseback to somewhere so wonderful that it could make a stone heart cry?

'Making your mysterious vanishing act, Miss Jones?' a voice coughs behind me. I twirl round and smile at the tired, yawning version of Edmund the Just King. Huh. So I _did_ do all that stuff last night.

'I wasn't sure what time it was,' I tell him honestly. 'And I didn't want to cause any trouble or disturb anyone.'

'Don't go yet,' he says a tad too desperately. 'Err,' he mutters. 'I mean, you haven't even had breakfast yet. Cook makes some gorgeous sizzling rashers, and poached eggs, _and_ she produces the warmest, softest bread you've ever eaten.'

'I'd have to take your word on it, you're majesty,' I giggle quietly. 'But my mum... I really _must_ get back—'

'Please, Cleo,' Edmund takes my hand. 'Stay.'

'Well... if you insist.'

'Wonderful!' he grins dazzlingly, dragging me across the hall ('!' is my reaction). 'And you've simply got to meet Susan and Peter – in fact – they're probably in the dining room right now!'

We enter a gloriously polished dining room where Lucy ('Hi, Cleo!' she beams, waving frantically at me) and the supposed "Susan" and "Peter" are sitting round a long table full of tempting ingredients and spices that send my head into a dreamy spin. Edmund hauls me in front of the table, instantly making everyone turn their heads towards me.

'Morning all,' Edmund greets them excitedly. 'I'm not sure if Lucy's told you but, this is Cleo Jones. She was a bit lost last night and stayed here, so now she'll have breakfast with us.'

Oh buggery, am I?

'Erm, hello.' I say rather pathetically. The blond guy has a grim frown on his face of disapproval.

'Edmund, you can't just start bringing home random members of the public,' he informs him gravely.

Susan gives him an icy glare: 'Peter, we have a guest here, so act like the High King you are. Anyway, Edmund did a very noble thing, helping this young lady. Have a seat Cleo; help yourself to some bacon and eggs if you please.'

'Thank you,' I curtsy. I'm not even sure if I _should_ curtsy, but I did it anyway.

I sit next to Susan, seeing as she seems to be the kindness one out of the two, and plate myself a generous amount of food. Peter doesn't look as though he trusts me. He reminds me a bit of my older brother, Logan – always glaring over my shoulder, making sure I'm up to no good, which I suppose kicked in when the ol' mum and dad split up and made him think he should act like the boss of the place. I've never heard Edmund mention his parents, but I suppose that being a king is the most important thing right now.

'Can I ask you lot a question?' I ask.

'Of course,' Susan smiles. 'What is it?'

'How come you lot are brothers and sisters, and you're on the throne all at the same time instead of one after the other?'

'Because we saved this land,' Susan explains. 'Together.'

'So Aslan crowned us all,' Lucy adds. 'Together.'

'Who's Aslan?' I enquire frustratingly. I hate being confused; it makes me feel idiotic.

'The wisest, most fantastic lion you could ever meet!' Lucy squeaks. 'He's like – the light and the bond that holds Narnia together! Do you know what I'm talking about?'

'Sort of,' I reply uncertainly. Did she just say something about a Lion?

'Well,' Lucy says, slipping a spoonful of scrambled eggs in her mouth. 'Enough about us. Where are you from?'

'London.'

'London?' they all say in unison. Oh crap, I think I've stirred something. There's an awkward silence before I answer with: '_Yes_, I'm from London. Heard of it?'

'Somewhat.' Peter murmurs, staring into space. 'It's where we were born.'

I glance at Edmund for reassurance but he's entered the trance too. Susan nudges my arm and whispers that I better be going now, before they snap out of it. I nod in quick agreement – wolf down some bacon – and hurriedly disappear before anybody notices.

. . .

The birds shrill and sing out here, and the blue chalk sky is better than the one at home (considering that the one at home is grey and depressing). A lemon yellow fireball beams back at me as I stroll through the forest at a slow pace and begin to take in the nature around me thankfully. The trees in Narnia are so beautiful, it almost sounds like they're whispering slightly as they shift in the breeze. I'm lost again, but I don't care. Nothing can disturb this cloud nine that I'm drifting on.

'_Daughter of Eve_.'

No. It can't be. Edmund killed that mongrel last night; it can't possibly be the same creature. I petrify my body into a scared statue as my eyes glimpse behind me. It's not the wolf, but it's a rough looking dwarf who has eyes like the beads of evil which are staring right at me. I gulp worriedly.

'What did you call me?'

'_Only what you are, my dear_,' he responds with a crooked grin that bears every bad tooth in his mouth. '_Only what you are._'

'I don't understand. Who are you, and what do you want?'

'_Do _not _be alarmed!_ _I am a mere wandering dwarf, caring for such a _beautiful _young woman who as evidently lost her way. I, Bumble-boo Crackle, only lives to serves friends of the Just King._'

'How do you know that?' my voice quivers.

The dwarf grimaces for a split second. I'm terrified and I know that I'm showing it as he takes a step towards me.

'_Listen, Eve_,' he orders, producing a dagger from his tiny pocket. '_Our White Empress has served us well, and we believe that with you we can bring her back – so come with me. These monarchs are not the true source of the rise of Narnia! Who do _you_ think kept Narnia under control all these years?_'

'The Light that is Aslan, that's what.'

Edmund emerges like a saviour from behind the rows of trees with his glinting sword right beside him in his hand. Boy, am I glad to see him. I sigh his name with relief and run behind him as he lunges towards the small man who automatically throws his blade to the ground.

'_You wouldn't harm a poor, defenceless old dwarf, now would you?_' he says, creeping back into his "gentle" tone. '_I would never hurt this fine, innocent young lady – your highness._'

'You can't trust him!' I scream suddenly. 'He was talking all sorts about the White Witch being good!'

Edmund's glare intensifies whilst the point of his sword rises to the miniature neck of the dwarf who whinges with a snarl on his lip. Loose tree blossom petals whirls around us as the two enemies glower at each other fiercely.

'You are banished from this land, understand?' Edmund hisses, almost spitting his words. 'And if you ever go near her again then every Follower of the White Witch will perish. Now _go_.'

The dwarf vanishes miraculously without making a sound. The sheer harshness of Edmund's voice makes me shiver with goosebumps all over my skin, and he didn't even raise his voice. I should've just gone straight home the minute I had a chance! Now everyone's trying to kill me in a place I thought was brilliant but isn't.

My arms create a life of their own as they cling to Edmunds neck in a frightened hug while his pale white hand drops his weapon instantly. My heart's in my throat and it's making me splutter my words when I spill a million thank-you's on him.

'Thankyouthankyouthankyouthank_you_!'

'We need to get back to Cair Paravel,' Edmund states, clicking his tongue and making a horse appear from the trees. How the hell does he do that? 'It's not safe here.'

'You don't have to tell me twice.' I clamber onto the horse first (not gracefully, mind) and scream: 'Comeoncomeoncome_on_, let's _go_.'

'What did he say to you?'

'What?'

'What. Did. He. Say?'

He has that tone of voice again and it makes me freeze like a statue immediately.

'He said that I was the answer to the rise of the White Witch. That I could be the one to... bring her back.'

Edmund's expression doesn't change as he mounts the stallion at the back of the saddle, and as he takes the reins, he still looks as though he's in deep thought. I feel so _guilty_ right now. I feel like I'm infecting the country with this appearance that the dark devotees have taken a particular interest in – I mean – why am _I _so different than the other "daughters of Eve"? And I know that Edmund must be getting annoyed now, seeing as he keeps having to save me every 5 minutes.

'You'll stay at Cair Paravel for a few days until my siblings and I can figure out what's going on. You will stay in the guest room opposite my room, so I can make sure nothing happens to you, and I'll have my best fawns to care for you whilst you stay there.'

Talk about sudden. I suppose he doesn't want me to object or anything which is why he said it so fast.

'Um. Okay.'

. . .

'_What the hell are you talking about, Edmund?_ _She can't stay here!_'

'And why not?'

'_Because if the White Witch's followers knew that that – that – _girl_ was staying _here _then what do you think they're going to do, eh? They'll attack! They'll attack like that big bloody war we did four years ago when _we _came to Narnia – you _twit!_'_

'Peter, we've got to keep her safe, I promised her. How do you think she's feeling right now? Now that she knows that she's out to be killed?'

'_What is so good about this person that you have to protect her, huh? Why do _you _care?'_

'I—I – I don't know!'

. . .

I can hear Edmund and Peter argue with each other across the corridor as gentle fawns brush every lock of my hair and do up every black button that is on the back of my emerald green gown that Susan leant me. Edmund shouldn't be defending me at all; I shouldn't even _be_ here. But I am now... and I feel _miserable_.

. . .

**A/N: Hey, fans! I'm BACK! Sorry if I had a little writer's block (or whatever it was) but thanks to the good help of a person(s) called TheLostHeroinesOfOlympus, I am here with a new chapter. **

**REVIEW! Because I love reviews so much that I literally jump about screaming when I get them.**

**I understand that the romance part hasn't exactly come yet – but WAIT! We can't all be Romeo's and Juliet's – GIVE IT TIME. **

**If you're just as confused as Cleo is (protagonist) read on to my other chapters...**


	5. Crying Clouds

**A/N: I understand that some of you people are confused by what's happened so far. Never fear! Here is a short summary: Cleo Jones has landed mysteriously in Narnia and has gotten saved by the handsome King Edmund who brought her back to Cair Paravel to meet Peter, Susan and Lucy and also to keep her safe. Thinking that she has intruded on their land, Cleo tries to sneak back home, and almost gets captured by a dwarf until Edmund yet again saves her. He takes her back to the castle where Peter is very annoyed at her for bringing her back, thinking that she'll bring bad luck to the kingdom.**

**Note: The White Witch followers (WWFs) words are in italics to add emphasis to what they say.**

**Another Note: This is at the WWFs HQ/Camp and in the PAST TENSE.**

**Third Note: This chapter is SO SHORT because this is just to give you AN IDEA of what the WWFs are doing. Okay? So, don't moan.**

**A Promise: I promise not to make my Author's Notes too long next time (smile). **

. . .

The dwarf wore an expression that told you that he might've just eaten a bitter lime, as he trudged toward the Camp reluctantly. Torm – the Minotaur whose rage was much fiercer than any roar that Aslan could produce in the dwarf's opinion – was not going to be happy when he came empty handed. And to think that he had called himself Bumble-boo Crackle for nothing. What kind of name was that anyway? Just to make that bloody human feel better about coming over to the dark side... what was wrong with his actual name (Coiles Smokespoke) anyways?

Coiles was about to continue his quiet grumble when found himself being tapped on the shoulder by a bony finger. He glanced round and gave a low growl of disappointment as he came face to face with a hobgoblin who stared at him with one eye open.

'_Torm wants to speak with you_,' he sniggered. Coiles nipped him round the ear and kicked him in leg to warn him off.

Coiles entered the camp and bowed before the great Minotaur and avoided his stare as Torm glared at him expectantly. After the death of the wolf agent, the WWFs didn't need any more bad news.

'_Well?_' Torm rasped. Coiles trembled with terror as he explained his situation.

'_...the Just King was too quick for me_.' Coiles concluded, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the fatal blow of anger that was to come. But it didn't come. The only thing that did appear was a slight 'hmph' from the Minotaur's snout.

'_I expected that this would happen_,' he muttered with salvia dripping from the fur below his mouth. '_The King has developed a visible bond with the Eve Child, and would never let anything happen to her. That's what sets the Aslan people to _our_ people. There so... _emotional_.'_

Laughter rippled through the attentive audience.

'_But the other Narnians had it right. If they can bring glory to Narnia with a Daughter of Eve, then so can we! We'll snatch her away – kidnap her – then we'll show her that our White Queen is the idyllic path._'

An uproar of dark joy infected the air, just as it was beginning to rain...


	6. Sleepy

**A/N: This is the fluffy part of the story with Edmund and Cleo. Read on...**

. . .

The grey smudged clouds sob rainwater teardrops as I look out on the courtyard from my balcony. My burgundy red hair is tied up in a side hair bun and is soaked through to my scalp, and my borrowed high-neck green gown is drenched so much that it clings to my honey-beige skin. I can barely see the centaurs through the shower, trotting out of Cair Paravel and towards the forest to check for WWFs—or "vermin" as Edmund calls them. I don't know how he does it—looking after Narnia and looking after me. What do you have to go through to get to that state of mind? Peter had mentioned a war...

'Come out of the rain.'

A familiar voice emanates from behind me and now suddenly I'm being gently pulled back inside— back into the warm roasted room that is overflowing with extravagance and elegance—by the worried-looking Just King. He hands me a dry cloth to dab myself with and raises a suspicious black eyebrow.

'What were you doing out there?'

Thinking about you.

'Thinking about home,' I lie, as I chuck the towel on the bed after wiping my wet face. 'Y'know, the 21st century and all that.'

'The what?' he asks intently.

'Never mind.' I sigh. My body collapses onto the sofa that sits at the foot of the bed whilst my head rests on the arm of it. 'I'm just tired.'

'Well you have nothing to worry about.' Edmund beams cheerfully, sitting next to me. 'I have guards stationed outside your door and below your window so no one can get past. Nothing will happen to you. I promise it.'

'Edmund,' I ask. 'Why were you arguing with Peter about me? You didn't need to stick up for me so badly, I mean, you were very protective. Not that I don't appreciate it or anything!—I was just wondering.'

'Erm, ooh, uh—well—he was being unreasonable,' he stammers unsurely. 'A-and I thought this was wrong to cast aside someone so lovely who hadn't done anything wrong in the first place.'

'You think I'm _lovely?_'

'Err...'

I giggle with a hint of nervousness and shut my eyes for a second. I don't know what's racing through Edmund's frightened little mind but I'm pretty sure that million things are flashing through it, as is mine. I wouldn't say that Edmund is particularly handsome but there is something wonderfully boyish about him.

'Do want to lean on me?'

It's a strange request although my sleepy nodding head thinks otherwise as my surrendering body lowers itself into Edmund's arms and rests comfortably on his chest. I'm getting that dreamland feeling again as his heartbeat is lulling me to sleep, and my eyelids are beginning to close. But I don't want to close them yet. I whisper a "thank-you" and kiss him lightly on the cheek, which I can feel leaves him ridiculously tense.

'Erm, what for?' he replies in a squeaky strangled voice.

'For taking me out of the rain.'

. . .

**A/N: Aww, isn't that nice?**

**Now, I know that it's a little weird to do 2 Author's Notes in the same chapter, but something has been brought to my attention: after checking my Story Traffic I found that a lot of you lovely Americans, Canadians, British, Australians etc. are reading my stories. Just because I haven't said it in a while, I still encourage you lot to REVIEW.**

**In fact, I order it. I ORDER YOU TO REVIEW!**

**(Please (smile))**


	7. The Amber Glow

**Edmund's POV**

'Edmund?'

My eyes open and look up at the person calling me. My vision is still blurry and my brain still feels scrambled from sleep so all I'm making out is three, roughly recognizable bodies standing in front of me. I can feel Cleo's body shifting on top of me with her face nuzzling into my shirt as we both start to come out of the doze we were in. I would be lying if I said that I don't remember how we left things before we dozed off. All I asked was if she wanted to lean on me, and the next thing I knew, she'd given me a kiss on the cheek! Flabbergasted. Absolutely blown away; as if I'd been pecked on the cheek by something so light and so pure that I was left going: 'Erm...'

'Edmund, get up!'

Is that Susan? I look directly at one of the more focused blurry blobs and shriek loudly as I see her standing right in front of me. My whole body jerks upwards—almost catapulting Cleo into the air which makes her stand next to me just as awkwardly—and my eyes are a wide expression of embarrassment. Lucy is giving me _really_ strange grin.

'What were you two doing?' she chuckles jokingly.

'Nothing!' we both say. Peter groans exasperatedly and rolls his eyes to the ceiling.

'We don't have time for this malarkey,' he mutters. 'Edmund, take these and come upstairs to the battlements—you too, Cleo.'

He chucks my cape and my crown at me to catch and storms out of the room with Susan trailing behind him. I toy with the crown in my hands. This is wrong. We don't wear our crowns unless something extremely serious has happened in the kingdom or when we're going to war. I hope it's not war; not after I've met Cleo.

I place golden crown on my head and sling my cloak around my shoulders, take Cleo's hand, and race up the tower to where the jagged battlements are crowded with archers and guards. Joining Susan's side just as Lucy catches up behind me, I see a burning amber glow in the distance that is slowly moving towards the castle. They look like... illuminated torches scorching the night.

'What's happening Peter?' I ask him.

'Grave things, brother.' Peter frowns. Always with the dramatics, Peter. 'Two White Witch _spies_ were seen lurking under the room of Miss Cleo. They say that they were here to..._ snatch her_.'

He gives a stern glare at Cleo who clings to my arm worriedly. Lucy's eyes are also welling up with tears. I didn't want her to find out this way; that's why I lied to her that night when I found Cleo (_see chapter 2_). Now look at her.

'But—but, I thought we'd stopped all this nonsense years ago!' she squeaks. 'There can't _possibly_ be anyone out there who doesn't love Aslan as much as—'

'_MONARCHS OF NARNIA. HEED MY WORDS. SURRENDER THE EVE CHILD AND PEACE WILL SOON SETTLE ON OUR MIGHTY LAND.'_ A Minotaur roars up to us in front of the marching crowd. I've seen that demon before. I think his name is "Torm" something or other. '_IGNORE OUR WARNING, AND WE SWEAR TO ATTACK_.'

'You see what you've done,' Peter hisses in my ear cruelly. 'All because of your little fancy, our home is surrounded by people who want to kill us! You think you can protect her forever?'

'I'll go.'

* * *

_Where would you go?_

_What would you do?_

_If it wasn't me it was you,_

_If wasn't me it was you..._

~The Pierces, _It Was You_

* * *

**Cleo's POV**

I'm halfway down the stairs but only now does Edmund choose to run after me.

'What on earth do you mean, "I'll go"?'

'Well, maybe I can talk them out of it! You know—tell 'em that I'm that I'm not the person that they're looking for. Maybe. I don't know.'

My feet quickly pad down the steps and skim across the corridor until I reach the doors to the courtyard. _What am I doing?_ I ask myself. _You could go outside and get pelted with arrows. But they need you. Why? Why do they need _you? That doesn't matter. Peter's right. This is all because of me and because Edmund wants to protect me. If I could just _talk_ to them, or find some sort of magic then I could... I could...

'Cleo!'

It's Lucy, and her hand clasps on shoulder as if I'm about to do something mad.

'Cleo, you can't just go out there and _talk_ to them, they'll kill you!'

'They won't.'

Lucy gives me a long hard stare and sighs. Her hand dives into her pocket and comes out again with a small bottle of clear liquid that is shimmering slightly whenever she tilts it.

'If they try and hurt you—who I'm sure they undoubtedly will—drink this,' she says. 'And you'll be healed. Now, are you sure you want to do this?'

'Er... yes. No. Yes. No, definitely yes.'

'Go then, for I hear Edmund pounding down the stairs towards us.' Lucy whispered.

She doesn't have to tell me twice: I'm sprinting across the courtyard, armed with what could be a bottle of _Calpol_ for all I know, forwards to something that could most definitely surprise everyone.

* * *

**A/N: Ooh, not looking good, is it? And Cleo and Edmund were getting along SO well. . .**

**Please Review. If this doesn't get you guys going, I don't know what will!**

**I promise to have the next chapter up by the start of... next month.**

_**Don't lose hope for our Protagonists! **_


	8. An Apologetic Author's Note

**A/N: I know what you're thinking and I am SO SORRY. With GCSE BTEC getting in the way (basically, schoolwork) I haven't had time to do our exciting chapter. I'm trying—I'm REALLY TRYING—to get it done. I'm so sorry!**

**I'll try and get it done ASAP.**

**PLEASE don't moan! Ugh...**


	9. Dawn for the Lionheart

**Cleo's POV**

I'm standing at the mouth of a cold echoing cave (the place where they've insisted on bringing me), and a hundred pairs of eyes stare at me expectantly—talking animals and mythical creatures alike. There are gargoyles in the corner and I'm betting big money that they're not stone ones. And then there's that stick that Torm's gripping by his side. It's most possibly glass, however the texture looks too scratched and white to be glass... the only other option could be ice. But it would've melted by now, so how is it still solid?

'_Our salvation appears before us!_' Torm bellows. Everyone else simply copies him automatically in an uproar. _They're just like sheep_, I think quietly. _No wonder so many followed the White Bitch, or whatever her name is_.

'_Here_,' Torm continues. '_Is the last remnant from our Queen's mighty palace. Much like the memory she's marked on our hearts and minds, her soul lives on in this one piece. _You,' he points at me. '_Will help her soul escape_.'

'"Let her soul escape?"' I repeat in an unconvinced voice. 'That's impossibly ridiculous, you _do_ know that right?'

'_You _can, _and you _will.'

He's thrust the ice staff into my hands and steps back dramatically. The cold seems to be seeping into my fingertips and giving me body-shocking, eye-popping amounts of sharp pain that is racing up my arm. I'm hearing a low growl behind me as a voice whispers from somewhere inside the cave. It's sweet and silky and quieter than any other voice that I've ever heard, but there's a harsh rasp after every syllable that makes me shiver on my ready-freezed skin. It says:

'_Ooh, a child of Eve? How loyal and trusting you are of Great Narnia's royalty. Especially our gentle Edmund... I remember him. I remember Turkish Delight and a little boy sitting in my chariot...but he isn't a little boy now, is he? I see him... in your memories..._'

It's her! And she's not in the cave she's right here, in my mind. I try to drop the staff immediately, but it's stuck to my hand. If I could just smash to pieces and end this lunacy. But still I feel her; scrolling through my brain as if my thoughts are computer files.

'Stop it, just stop it!'

'Who are you talking to?' Torm asks intently.

'Her!' I scream as my knees crash to the ground, leaving me in a crouching pose.

'_Oh I'm sorry dear, but now that I have you I can't let you go._' The White Witch whispers through the large icicle in my hand. '_You can help greatness come again by bringing me back._'

'Liar! Aslan is the one who brings greatness here! He's honest and true and unlike you, he would never bully anyone into doing his biding. He's... he's...'

'_He's an old lion who should be put down! He's the reason that this land is built on prophecies and daydreams not stern, rugged power. I'm the true empress, the ruler and the queen of Narnia—me!_'

I don't know what's come over me! I haven't really heard that much about Aslan except his association with the Kings and Queens, but somehow I know that what _I_ say is true. A spark of warmth flickers from the cockles of my heart and begins to push out the cold as I become more confident. It reminds me of days inside when it was wintery at home, and mum would make hot chocolate and light a fire, and the night of when Edmund and I talked for an hour when he brought me in when I was lost.

'Why should I listen to you?' I shriek, as the pain desperately increases. 'You're no empress, no ruler, not even a queen! You're Jadis the Witch!'

She's let me go, and the ice stick explodes onto the forest floor. A rippled shock wave knocks the tallest of creatures off their feet as a shrill scream fills the air, but I'm still crouched down and this is my only chance to run. I stand up and sprint out of the cave quickly. A sword waits for me in the grass, and I gratefully take the heavy object in my hand, as if I'm supposed to. With adrenaline pushing me on, my feet scrambles to safety.

Suddenly I can hear a roar ring out behind me! But it isn't a roar intended to cause fear—though powerful and impressive it is—it's a roar of a Lion. My head turns and my wish's been granted. Aslan stands before me.

* * *

**Edmund's POV**

I hate this feeling of uselessness. The sins that the Witch performed are leaving long shadows that stretch to our present day, when it shouldn't. This petty feud that the WWF's are putting up with us is a pathetic attempt to bring their leader back, even now when the war is over. This is what is left over, and Cleo is trying to help clean it up. She must be so scared right now. Lucy said that she had said that they wouldn't hurt her but I sincerely beg to differ. And all this pacing up and down with my sisters watching me won't help.

'You should rest Edmund,' Susan informs me in a logical manner.

'How can I, Sue? When Cleo is out there doing God knows what,' I reply frantically. 'And I can't do anything to stop it. I shouldn't be here just sulking my face off and whatnot.'

Lucy tilts her head and looks wistfully at me. A sympathetic smile plays on the corners of her lips.

'You care for her a lot, don't you?'

'I—' I've never really thought about it. An idea springs to mind. 'I've got to go.'

'What?' Susan and Lucy ask in unison.

I ignore them and stride out the throne room quickly. I'm going to get her back, one way or another.

* * *

_I must become a lionhearted girl_

_Ready for a fight_

_Before I make the final sacrifice_

~Florence + the Machine, _Rabbit Heart_

* * *

**Cleo's POV**

'Why is she still here?' is my first question.

'Jadis is an old sin whose shadow has been cast upon the land since the first evil crime she committed.' Aslan replies calmly. His voice is sweet and warm like thick honey and his mane shimmers when he shakes it as if every strand is dipped in gold. 'She's a famous demon who everyone wants to bring back.'

'Why do they want me?' is my second question.

'Understand that you are not just a saltwater drop plucked from the ocean,' he murmurs. 'You're appearance was the most probable cause of the Witch's followers, but you have shown great courage and caring for a girl of such a young age, especially with our Just King, Edmund.'

'Yes, um, well he's been through a lot.' I cough inelegantly.

'How has that knowledge come?'

'It's in those chestnut eyes of his. There always so wide and innocently childlike, but he always looks as though he's grown up too quickly and that he's trying to act like a man. But then again what is a man recognised as in this country?'

He chuckles deeply. 'How philosophical of you.'

'Third question,' is my third question. 'Why are _you_ here?'

'You are brave, but not strong enough yet,' he explains. 'Didn't you feel your heart warm at the sudden feel of my breath?'

'That was you?'

'_Cleo!_'

'Edmund?'

Oh my God, what the hell does he think he's doing? He's whooping and cheering and swooping on yet another animal that is new to me. An eagle larger than the ones in reality soars above my head and begins to lower further and further downwards. He shouldn't have come. He's going to hurt himself the way he's flaunting about up there. I turn back to Aslan but he's slowly padding away from me and back into the forest.

'Wait! Don't you want to see him? He speaks very highly of you, and I'm sure that it'd please him.'

'When the Pevensies meet me again, Narnia will be in a much greater dangerous than this,' he says, with a smile on his furry mouth. 'Or at least that's what the stories say. Good morning, Cleo: Child of Eve. The dawn is coming now.'

Lemon-yellow sunlight shines on his face as he vanishes miraculously like magic. A gale of wind almost pushes me over from behind; I'm guessing that Edmund has landed now. My eyes are closed, as to not get any grit in my eyes, and as they take their first peek I see Edmund staring right back at me. A dazzling grin cracks on his face as he throws his arms around me in an impulse of happiness.

'Gosh, Cleo! It's a wonder how you're still standing! Well did they do anything to you or hurt you?'

'No, no I'm fine, but why are you here?'

'Because you scurried off like a runaway into the woods,' he replies with a shocked voice. 'And without a moment's thought, you just thought that you could do this all by yourself.'

'_I could and I did!_' I sound like them. I clear my throat and rephrase with: 'I was able, okay? They tried to bring that woman back through some sort of salvage from her palace.'

'The ice palace?' Edmund asks.

'They said something about that.' I reply. 'You didn't... I mean, were you... worried?'

'How could I not be?'

My body is limp at this moment. I guess I should've heard it when he argued with Peter and seen it when he'd played 'hero' twice in a row; he cares for me. He _actually_ cares. The only other time I've ever felt this special is when Martin Addams kissed me lightly on the cheek when I was just six years old. "A tingling feeling" is a cliché understatement, however "brilliant elation" sounds just about right.

'Come on,' he says, taking my hand and leading me towards the animal. 'Let me take you back on the hippogriff.'

'Hippogriff!' I exclaim. 'So that's what it is!'

* * *

**A/N: Review.**


	10. A Perspective, a Choice, an Explanation

**Edmund's POV**

The terrified clasp that she has on my waist is leaving me suffocated and breathless but I don't mind, and anyway, we're going to land soon enough. I keep trying to tell her that but, I don't think that she believes me. Cleo just thinks that she'll slip off the great beast because I keep teasing her by asking the hippogriff to spin and twirl in the air like a rollercoaster.

'Are we there yet?' she cries at the top of her lungs.

'Open your eyes and see!'

I swivel my head round and her eyes are wide open and fearful.

'Are you absolutely crazy? Keep your eyes on the sky, mate!'

There's a deafening thud as the hippogriff lands without my command, which is probably lucky seeing as we were perilously close to Cair Paravel's castle walls whilst most likely anticipating a fatal injury. Cleo jumps off and waves quickly at Lucy who is sprinting towards us with tears in her eyes. I don't see what she was so upset about; I was only gone for a few minutes.

'Cleo! We've been so worried about you,' she sobs dramatically. 'Did they hurt you? Are you injured? Did you need the potion I gave you?'

'Oh Aslan, you gave her your potion?' I ask. 'I had some of that stuff once. Though sweet and sugary, it was very bitter.'

'You _drank_ it?' Cleo questions me inquisitively. 'When?'

'Erm...'

'Come on Cleo,' Susan says rapidly, pulling her away into the castle. 'You don't need to hear about all that riff-raff that happened in the past. Let's get you some clean clothes, hmm?'

And they're gone. Silence is settling in the air like dust on an old book and I take a deep breath as to drink in the peace. The definition of silence is just the lack of sound around you, but the sheer thunderous non-noise that I hear is unbelievable. It's almost as though Narnia was holding her breath, waiting for the incident to blow over before she could breathe goodness back again. I wave the hippogriff away and turn to see Peter walking to me in a guilty sort of way. He has the sort of expression he'd wear if Mother had told him to go and apologize to me after a fight with him when we were little.

'You're back,' he states meekly. 'And unscratched, I hope?'

'Yes,' I reply with a smile on my face. 'And has your hostility blown over?'

He groans and exasperatedly sighs. He takes off his crown and becomes my brother again, the one that'd gotten lost all those years ago.

'It's not me being like this, you know,' he justifies. 'It's the High King role that was talking back there. We came here so naively, Edmund, and thought that we'd play Kings and Queens for a while and then leave. But we haven't been taking it seriously enough... or at least _I_ thought I wasn't taking it seriously enough. I just... I want to be _good_, understand? We've been deceived before—'

'Or you mean _I _have been, right?'

'Exactly.' Peter agrees contemplatively. 'And I just thought that Cleo was—well—_one of them_. I'm sorry for doubting your judgement on her.'

'My judgement? What do you mean, "_My judgement_"?' I challenge him.

'It's pretty obvious that you wish to court with this young lady, Ed,' he answers, flashing a grin. 'You defended her to the death when I doubted her honesty and genuineness, and the look of embarrassment that covered your face when we found you two napping, _well_—'

'Yes, yes, alright, I get it,' I mutter uncomfortably. Peter thumps me on the back and gives a bellowing laugh that disrupts the ground and shakes the rubble from the very rooftops of Cair Paravel (metaphorically speaking, of course).

'Although that is just how I see it,' Peter sighs. 'I don't know what Cleo could be thinking right now anyway...'

* * *

**Cleo's POV**

Susan disentangles the sheets of crimson that falls prettily onto my shoulders and applies the brass-wielded butterfly comb that pulls the whole of the right side of my locks back, leaving the left side to hide to hide the single salty teardrop that falls from my eye. I hope that she hasn't noticed it. I could say that it feels stupid and immature to cry, but it doesn't. I went in with no sword and no shield; I could've really hurt myself. I stir agitatedly in my seat and begin to only look at Susan from the corner of my eye.

'Cleo, darling,' she coos. 'Whatever's the matter?'

'I just feel that I was so idiotic to go with the WWF's yesterday,' I sniffle, wiping my nose with a handkerchief that Susan appears from her pocket. 'And what was all that last night with me saying that I could '_convince_' them that I '_wasn't the right the person they were looking for_'? Was I on drugs or something—heroine? Cocaine?'

'Okay,' Susan hazards. 'I have no idea what you're talking about, but this has got to stop. Whether it was stupid or brave or anything like that, what matters is that you defeated them... didn't you?'

'Of course I did,' I snap. 'They won't be giving us anymore trouble. I may not have won a major battle like you guys but I think I cleaned up from the after party if you know what I mean.'

Three sharp knocks come at my door and a candlelight beam spills into the room and shines warmly on my face as Edmund's face peers round the door at me. He gives a brief, awkward smile and sees the handkerchief that is stained in my hand. His face alternates to an appearance of concern.

'Cleo? Are you alright?'

Susan shifts her eyes from me to him, from him to me and states that she needs to see Lucy "about a thing that she couldn't tell us about" which probably means that she has nothing to say to Lucy, but scurries out the room nevertheless. Edmund closes the door behind her and skims across the room to kneel down next to me.

'Cleo,' he murmurs reassuringly. 'What's the matter?'

'I... I just wish that I could make all the Witch's followers... disappear.'

'I'm telling you, if my blade was sharp enough and our armies were large enough, then I'd definitely try—'

'No, no,' I whisper quickly before he can rant on and on. 'I mean that I wish I could change them. They seem to have been led into this with blind eyes, not realising that they are danger and not the salvation of this land. I don't know about the history of Narnia, but the WWF's must've been pretty desperate to have someone to lead them if they were so desperate to bring her back.'

Edmund's eyes widen after my explanation. I can feel the red flush leave my face and the trickling water dry up from my eyes. Somehow, talking to Edmund has really made me feel better, even if it was a barrel of nonsense.

'Gosh,' he says in a baffled manner. 'I guess I never looked at it at that perspective. Um. You seem a lot better now.'

'I am.' I smile bravely.

We're staring at each other for an extraordinary amount of time—almost gazing—and the spaces between us are becoming smaller and smaller as Edmund hovers around my lips but hesitates to close the gap. My brain has an opinion of its own, as I cup my hands around his face and give the best kiss I can give at this moment. He's retracted. Oh God, I knew that acting on impulse would come back to me.

'I've ruined this haven't I? Oh my God, I'm thick!'

'No, no, no,' he chuckles softly, lacing his fingers with mine. 'I was just thinking that now that you have triumphed against the Witch's followers, you don't need to stay here anymore. You can go home. Just like you always wanted.'

'I've been thinking too,' I admit quietly. 'And I don't want to go.'

A brief spark of hope gleams in his eyes. 'Really?' he asks.

'I wasn't doing much with myself back home. I am living an average life, I am an average girl, and it's not as though I'm unhappy there but it's that this place is so fantastical and so lovely that... I want _this_, I want...' I waver slightly. 'I want _you_.'

A strange smirk rises from the corner of his mouth as I allow his arms to wrap round my waist and hold me tightly in an embrace so warm that I'm roasting underneath my blue satin dress.

'What are thinking?' I enquire anxiously, biting my lip.

'I'm thinking...' he pauses for a theatrical effect.

'Don't tease me, Edmund, tell me!'

'Alright, alright. I'm thinking that... this could go one way or another but for now I'm glad you're right here.'

And then the kissing starts all over again.

* * *

**A/N: Well, we know now why Peter was being such a horrible jerk. And Cleo and Edmund seem to be getting along **_**just fine**_**. But will it last?**

**Review NOW and I will attempt to bring my LAST CHAPTER out TOMORROW.**


	11. Deceived

**A/N: The Last Chapter! Sorry it's late. A bit of mystery at the end, but not a lot. Sorry, I won't give too much away. You'll have to read it yourself...**

* * *

_**A week later...**_

**Cleo's POV**

Lucy races past me like a bumblebee in summertime and screams a burst of happiness as Peter tries desperately to keep up with her. He's not as fast as her, and the anticipation of being beaten by his little sister is getting to him I think. I whisper the words: '_Come on_' and Phillip is instantly cantering off after them with strong power in his legs and a competitive heart. Edmund let me borrow him for my ride with Peter and Lucy, because (apparently) he'd "trust no one else to keep me safe as I gallivanted around the woods with his siblings". What a caring little sweetheart.

'Is that all you've got, Peter?' she squeals breathlessly.

'Slow down, Lu, or you'll injure yourself,' Peter shouts back.

'And let you win?' Lucy yells at the top of her lungs. '_Never!_'

I laugh along with them but struggle to keep up. I ask Phillip to stop in a clearing as to catch each other's breath and rest a little.

'It's such a shame,' I say. 'That Edmund can't be here to enjoy all the fun. Things always seem better when he's around.'

'And he always feels better when he's with you,' Phillip neighs softly.

'How do you know that?'

'He told me.'

_Aw_. I pat him playfully on the snout and close my eyes to get the full effect of the fresh air around me. Narnia is just so... so unspoilt. In London there's global warming, toxic gases, riots, protests – here – it's so peaceful and beautiful and the animals are so magical that I have a feeling that I won't be going back anytime soon.

I open my eyes again and peer into rows of trees to look for Peter and Lucy. The trees shudder ominously but I hardly notice it anymore. Edmund said it was normal for them to do that around people (I'm still not sure what that means) so I decide to get off Phillip and inspect the disruption in the woods.

'Lu?'

'_Eve?_'

I instantly freeze. I've heard that voice before, but it's dead. My ears are deceiving me and I'm going insane; that's the only explanation. Out of the corner of my eye I see a large limping dark figure walking backwards as to keep its glowing yellow-eyed gaze held. Like a fool I follow it, because I know that if I don't, it'll only turn up again at another time. Trying to convince myself that it's only a shadow is hard, as it leads me deeper and deeper past the trees while my ears ignore Phillip's calls, seeing as I'm a hundred percent sure that it's the Minotaur: Torm.

'_So,'_ Torm murmurs. '_You have betrayed the dark for the light. How disgustingly loyal of you, Daughter of Eve. You are just like the Adam Child, Edmund; always taking the advice of those who wish to help you as deceiving evil._'

'That's because you did deceive him,' I tell him harshly. 'Edmund's right and so am I; you _are_ perfectly wicked creatures.'

'_Oh, are we? Are we really so bad?_' he hisses. '_I've heard bad tales of your world. So... _eager_ to kill and destroy each other, aren't you?_'

'Not me.' I assure him. 'I don't even want to go back.'

He doesn't reply. That's worrying. I come into another clearing and feel light warmth on my face coming from above but it isn't the sun. A slender, tall, charcoal-back painted lantern looms above my head and tells me that this is the beginning of Narnia and the end of the world I left behind. Torm's been clever, and has led me back to the start. I turn back the other way but now everything's different. I've gotten familiar with the trees here and these are _definitely _not the same. They're so lifeless and dry. There's a buzz in the air and the word: _traffic_ comes to mind quite swiftly.

'Phillip?' I cry out desperately.

_Bang._

Was that a... gun? I glance up into the sky but it's no longer day, it is night. Surely it was 9 o'clock in the morning, the last time I saw.

_Bang, bang_.

A spark of colour explodes in the starlit darkness. Fireworks. No, no, no, no, it can't be fireworks night, that was a week ago! Where are Peter and Lucy and Phillip and all the other talking animals? I run back and forth like a twit, but I soon realize that I'm not going back. How could this happen to me? The fireworks continue as tears begin to trickle down my cheeks.

'Edmund? Edmund?'

Coming home isn't even the worst of it. To know that followers of the White Witch are still out there, able to hurt the Kings and Queens, is so horrible because I know that I can't be there to warn them. Now I'll never see Edmund again.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I sent her home in a sad way. Sorry. I just couldn't think of anything else to carry on with the story with. I'm now taking a break from story writing folks.**

**See you.**

**The End.**


	12. The Third Author's Note

**A/N: I understand that most of you were disappointed with my ending. If I'm honest, I am too. I think I was setting deadlines for myself that I just couldn't meet. There will be a sequel, but probably next month. I'm too bloody tired, alright?**

**There's no title yet, so don't get excited.**

**I apologise.**

_HuckleberryPeriwinkle_


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